


Not a day to spend alone

by Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysBoth/pseuds/Wolftraps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He told no one where he was going; left his car downtown to lessen his chances of being tracked here. And he told no one what today is. Part of it is a desire not to recognize it, though Derek couldn't forget it himself. What right does he have to celebrate another year of life after all the pain and death and misery he's brought everyone around him? But it's also a bit of selfish fear. Even if they knew, would any of them care?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a day to spend alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kedreeva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/gifts).



> Written for the prompt:  
> 

Derek told himself when he woke up this morning that he wouldn't come here, but he knew from the start that it was a lie. The light is fading by the time he works up the will to go inside; odd, since he lived here for a couple months last year, but today is different. No matter what else happened, today is a day he's never spent alone. Laura's gone now, and Peter and Cora, even if she's not dead. This is the only place left he can be with family, but it also feels wrong to be here where they died on a day that's just a reminder that he's still alive.  
  
The door creaks as Derek pushes it open, chips of scratched paint coming loose under his hand, and the air feels heavy as he steps inside. Over the years, the elements have wiped away most of the scents from before, but sometimes if he disturbs the right relic, it seems like he can catch a brief trace of something. His father's cologne, his mother's shampoo, the body spray Laura used to coat almost everything in to cover the scent of "hormonal teenage wolfboys" because she was too cool for Derek back then.  
  
He traces through the rooms, dragging up memories that make him smile but stab him in the chest all the same, ending in the room where he once buried his uncle. It's dark now, and even the moon doesn't provide much light, days from new. His phone beeps for the fifth time today, Boyd this time, with the same message to call Stiles that he's received from everyone else, though still not holding the urgency needed for Derek to respond.  
  
He told no one where he was going; left his car downtown to lessen his chances of being tracked here. And he told no one what today is. Part of it is a desire not to recognize it, though Derek couldn't forget it himself. What right does he have to celebrate another year of life after all the pain and death and misery he's brought everyone around him? But it's also a bit of selfish fear. Even if they knew, would any of them care?  
  
None of his family is actually buried here, but something of them remains. He sits in their imagined presence, in the dark, and remembers when people wanted him around.  
  
It's getting late when he hears someone coming and smells the smoke, but it's not like the traces he still gets from the worst areas of the house. It's a small flame, accompanied by the scent of wax and sweet things. And it's moving, coming toward him.  
  
" _Shit_ , ohhh god, ok-" Comes from the direction of the door as someone stumbles. There's a slightly muffled crash and a small "ow" and Derek can't resist the urge to hide his face in his hands.  
  
"You might want to move a bit to the right if you don't feel like falling in a hole," he says, looking up to watch Stiles shuffle through the room, unable to see anything past the light of the tiny candle he's carrying. " _Holy god_ ," Stiles jumps a bit, reaffirming his grip on the plate in his hands in fear of dropping it. "Could you _not do that?_ " He inches closer, stepping to the right on Derek's suggestion.  
  
"What are you doing here, Stiles?" Derek smirks a bit, watching Stiles cross the room like it might be littered with landmines. It's the closest he's come to smiling all day.  
  
"Looking for you. Figures I'd find you here. In the dark. _Again_." When he makes it close enough that the light is cast across Derek's face, Stiles moves with more purpose. Determined strides bring a plate full of sweet and wax and fire almost directly under Derek's nose, and he's forced to grab it before it hits him in the face or falls in his lap.  
  
"What is this?" he asks, staring at it, uncomprehending. Stiles scoffs.  
  
"A hand grenade. What do you think? It's a cupcake."  
  
"Yes, I see that." Derek says flatly. "But why?"  
  
Stiles shrugs. "We didn't have a cake pan. Scott says chocolate is okay for you guys, but I don't really know if you like chocolate so I just did funfetti. No one hates funfetti, right?" Derek doesn't know why he ever expects to get a real answer from Stiles on the first try. He raises his eyebrows incredulously until Stiles rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Okay, okay. You never told me, so I may have snagged your birthday from your police records."  
  
"That still doesn't explain why you're bringing me a cupcake," Derek says quietly, more to himself than to Stiles, staring into the flame and watching a drop of wax trail down the candle.  
  
Stiles face falls a bit along with his arms, and his voice takes on this sort of subdued tone. "It's your birthday," he says. "That's kind of what you do for people you care about." There's no blip in his heart, but Derek's head jerks up in surprise, searching Stiles' eyes for the truth, and is met with a sort of exasperated fondness. Eventually it turns into a tentative nervousness and Stiles shifts, crossing his arms again. "Will you just make a wish already? Unless you really like eating wax."  
  
The flame flickers a bit under Derek breath as he considers, thinks about the bad and the maybe good, then he meets Stiles eyes again, smiles, and blows out the candle. The room goes pitch.  
  
"Shit." Stiles steps back, blind in the lack of light, steps unevenly on a stray board and falls back on his ass.  
  
When Derek is done laughing, he helps Stiles up and leads him out through the dark, back to his Jeep. They eat the cupcake together, along with most of the rest of the pan sitting in the back seat, as Stiles drives Derek back to his loft. There are only three hours left of his birthday, but he doesn't spend them alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://wolftraps.tumblr.com)!


End file.
